PS 3545 
.0475 
R4 
1912 
Copy 1 




Reflections 

Flora Williams Wood 



Reflections 

by 

Flora Williams Wood 



From 

The Land of Dreams 

"INDIANA" 



n n 



"The weaver sits weaving, and as the shuttle flies, the cloth 
increases, and the figures grow, and he dreams dreams, mean- 
while. —Lew Wallace 






llf^ 




FLORA WILLIAMS WOOD 



(f^r.i'ARR28 69 



I. 



Copyright 1912. by 

Flora Williams Wood 

ilkhabt, indiana 



Art Printins Co. 

CI-KHART 



/F we pause for a moment to gather the memory gems 
which are strewn so promiscuously along life's way, 

we find that our little acts, our thoughts, our deeds, 
if caught in the moment of their origin, become butterflies 
of existence emerging from the chrysalis, the mind. 

Some lives are pure aphorisms, others poems, while a 
great many are one long discordant note, without a pretty 
symphony from Prelude to Fine. 

It is a delight to live, to live rightly, for life is all so 
sweet, that we cannot help being blest while we breathe 
the fresh air and inhale the fragrance of the flowers in 
their rich and lustrous splendor, when we follow the sun- 
sets, while the last harmonious tints slip down below the 
horizon, veiled in the glorious haze of the summer days as 
they pass along, the delicate afterglow reminding one of 
the fond mother as she watches the rose petaledlids other 
darling child, sink lower and lower on the velvet cheek in 
sweet goodnight. 

Life, then, is really a vision of glory, a beautiful 
dream of delight, for the gladness of the earth is ours, 
the days may come and the days may go, each marking 
the passing events in the swift succession of years. 

Then let our hearts go singing on like a pretty brook 
preparing for the year each hopeful and happy day, let us 
plan earnestly and with ever increasing zest for the years 
to come, as if sorrow or disappointment had never entered 
our lives, that when we look out through the sheltering 
heavens of blue, we may see the silver at noon, and the 
tender purple light of the setting of the sun. 

So, with ever a sunlight vision of another and better 
world before ua, and a hopeful and happy trust within us, 
that God will help us bear whatever comes of joy or sorrow 
mortal life becomes the suggestive, entrancing prelude to 
the "glad new song" that will make the eternities full of 
new and ever increasing ecstasies. 



Yea, let all good things await 

Him who cares not to be great, 

But as he saves or serves the state 

Not once or twice in our rough island story, 

The path of duty was the path to glory; 

He that walks it, only thirsting 

For the right, and learns to deaden 

Love of self, before his journey closes. 

He shall find the stubborn thistle bursting 

Into glossy purples, v/liich outredden 

All voluptuous garden roses. 

— Tennyson. 



^relube 



When the buds begin to blossom 
And the trees are all in bloom 
Then we know that it is summer 
And we welcome back the June. 
When the southern breezes blowing 
Waft the song of bird and bee, 
Fill our hearts to over-flowing 
With sweet love and melody. 
It is then our hearts are happy 
When the vernal days have come, 
To rejoice in mutual gladness 
Count cur blessings one by one. 



10 Reflections 



fife's Wa^ 



The world so broad and beautiful, life's mystery- 
holds in hand 

So many things we'd like to know, yet cannot 
understand, 

Each have a mission to fulfill, a plan to carry 
out. 

Though many obstacles may come, our hopes 
and plans to rout 

While thro the dreamful tasks we seek, to find 
life's mystic way 

With eager yearning, learn the truths which 
serve us best today. 

The human mind, the greatest force which 
seeks its rightful place. 

For thoughts are things, that move the world, 
and set a certain pace,- 

Toward the haven for which we yearn, 'Tis heav- 
en's ministry 

That guides our frail bark 'cross the foam of 
life's uncertain sea. 

And yet, how strange life's banner looks, when 
with its folds unfurled. 

It floats above the din and toil of Time's great 
busy world. 

Life does not always see beneath, where lives 

are dimmed and scarred. 
Or know what wrongs have worked the change, 

by which their souls are marred. 
Some things creep in quite unawares, to change 

life's pleasant way, 
To make dark clouds o'er shadow all of life's 

bright happy day; 
Yet often too, our trials come to better and to 

bless 
Which for the time seemed strangely fraught 

with pain and bitterness. 

And yet, without these changes, life would be an 
empty thing 

And pleasures pall, and paralyze the faith to 
which we cling, 

Variety is the spice of life; we soon shall learn 
to know 

That, too, exceeds our greater share, of either 
weal or woe. 

And ever steadfast looking up toward the higher 
things 

'Mid shifting facts our lives disclose, its end- 
less happenings. 



Reflections 11 



It is the most by which we're blest, in being what 
we are; 

Contentment is true happiness, an ever brighten- 
ing star. 

For joy we'll find whate'er our lot, if we but 
think it so; 

The inner radiance of the heart great blessings 
shall bestow. 

And with the slpendor of the soul enrich the 
mind's ideal, 

Nor change it from its steadfast course, or make 
the dream less real. 

» n 



L'ENVOI 

Our mind the God in part, that we should heed. 
That would supply for good our better need, 
Our lives, the truest test of tide and time 
Our thoughts, the guide-post and the marking- 
line. 
The compass o'er life's rough and stormy sea; 
The power which enthralls, or sets us free. 
Whose wild waves dash, to test the frailest bark 
To sway at will or dim ambition's mark. 
The test of life enables us to be 
Awakened to its glorious ministry. 

And those we love and whom we best admire. 
Are those who conquer o'er the evil power. 
Their will asbestos-like may touch the flame 
Yet which, the fire may touch it cannot maim, 
Beyond the part our conscience would ere spurn 
The flames envelop all, yet never burn. 
And always looking up toward higher things 
Surround us with the inflnite, love's sweetest na- 
ture brings. 
Just to commune alone within the solitude 
Oft calms the stormy heart to quiet mood. 

We shape the way the best that we know how. 
The rest submit to Him, and to the Inflnite bow, 
The way marked out, the course that we pursue, 
With our first footsteps start our journey through. 
And child-hood's path-way points toward the goal 
To write life's purest preface for the growing 

soul. 
And when, with story done, we sink to rest 
Can we look up and say, we've done our best? 
Our conscience-faithful judge.will give decree 
And our deserts are measured out, accordingly. 



12 Reflection* 



Nature's Retreat 

Where the lavender wild flowers border long the 

wooded way 
And the blossoms of the autumn in abundance 

hold full sway, 
Sweet fringed gentian of the fall-time purple 

crown'd and royal blue. 
Enfold thy robes of richest color, emblem of 

thy country true, 
Scatter perfume thro the grasses in the sunshine 

of the morn 
Turn to gold the azure sunsets for the spring's 

new hope is born. 

Joy and pristine life together, 'mid the bird-land 

and the bee 
Where the heart communes forever with the 

bird-harps symphony. 
Oh, the law that shapes the primrose, grows 

the bud from dew and rain 
Falls the faded petals only soon to sink to earth 

again. 
To arise in a fair glory when the springtime is 

anew 
In the sunlight tinted petals, their full life of 

joy imbue. 

Where the sunlight in the shadow steals to gild 
the summer dawn 

And the sweet Azaleas blooming on the dew be- 
jewelled lawn. 

So the rnist fades from the valleys in the purple 
dreamy haze 

And the trill of happy bird songs sing delights of 
other days, 

O, the dancing shadows flitting 'cross the fields 
of budding grain 

Paint the violet and lily trophies of fair Nature's 
gain. 

n n 

(Bttcbtv 

The twilight fades upon the Autumn hills 
The azure tinted sunset sparkles in the rills, 
The trees and all the herbage changing hues 
Of colors rare, enchanting joys our hearts infuse 
O Glorious world! full Eden-like the sun shines 

on the trees 
Like molten gold, 'tis sifted thro, the leaves sail 

on the breeze. 



Ref/fctrona 13 



(Aiitumu ^cauea 



A TOKEN 



Apropos too, the archer true signals us to see 
Fall's messenger of love, red, gold and brown, 
Fringed the wooded way, with tender fern and 

fading fen. 
And fluttering wings of late birds flying by, 
A bold Kill-dee, perchance a butterfly. 
The odorous scent of hickory leaves and frag- 
rant fallow-land 
Florescent with wild flowers fair and sweet. 
And deep within the briar-scented hedge 
Some red leaves, shining thro and berries too. 
Autumn buds, from sweet brier turn'd to brown. 
Unhappiness! there is no word like that among 

these things. 
Unfairness, too, must wend its way on brilliant 

wings 
Beside the priceless joys of Autumn days. 
Which emulate and bend the will to grace. 
To love, to revel in the rareness of it? flowery 
ways. 



^ Hater ^gmplr 



O Neptune's charm of the fairy wave under the 
sea so blue. 

You mock my heart with your sacred art when- 
ever I dream of you, 

O Undine fair, of the fabled song, you water- 
spirit brave 

Swing in your hammock of sea-weed green and 
rock on the billowy wave! 

Oberon the king of the fairies, will dance by the 
light of the moon. 

And tempt me to join in your wild delight, with 
the love of thy heart commune. 

You will dance on the waves of the coral strand, 
there by the moaning sea; 

And bid me away, with a wave of your hand, 
with a gleeful ecstasy. 

O love of the sea, come back to me, and dance 
with the fairies old. 

Of the elfin fair let the spirit charm, and make 
you forever bold. 

And the wild sea moan shall be your home, 
there in the rolling deep, 

The sea-weed cradle shall be your bed, and the 
billows rock you to sleep. 



14 Reflactiona 



f as2 It |lg 

If your heart aches, sad and lonely, 
And your thoughts come with a sigh. 
Say the word! I'll overcome it, 
With all care, I'll pass it by. 

Yes, I'll thrust aside the evil 
That would mar my happiness; 
That would dwarf the best that's in me, 
Would destroy, instead of bless. 

For what's the use of meditating. 
Asking trials to stay with you? 
What's the use of trying to cherish 
Friendship that has proved untrue? 

Friends who prove not worth the keeping, 
Who have valued not your good, — 
Pass them by, like days departed 
When at last you've understood. 

Make new friends, and soon forget them. 
As while yet the moments fly 
If they do not heed your efforts; 
Do not grieve, but pass it by. 

Keep on hoping, pushing onward, 
Life's too short to sit and pine; 
Do your best, be not despondent 
For the right will come in time. 

— Copied in Palestine, Jerusalem, from 
Word and Works, April 1912. 



^ Primrose ^atli 



Where daisies dot the meadow all the way. 
And nightingales peal forth their round-de-ley. 
With sweet low note the martin calls his tune. 
And loving nature rests in sweet commune. 

The golden sunlight gleams amid the fern 
In quietude, the turmoil quick to spurn; 
The meadow carpeted in forest green 
A silver threaded brooklet winds between. 

The silence is sweet music to the ear, 

And rest, in Nature's elysian sphere, 

The fragrance of a primrose path among 

The mosses, where the buds have lately sprung. 



Reflections IS 



Wear tlje maam? 

Why wear the gloom and all too soon 

Go brook the sorrows waiting? 

And restless wait, though grief abate 

The joyful reinstating; — 

Of pleasure ways and happy days 

That's always sure to follow, — 

The blustering winds that blow betimes, 

O'er dark and dismal hollow. 

This thought imbue, for it is true 
Though dark the day be dawning. 
The sunshine clears, uo need for fears, 
There comes another morning. 
'Tis half and half, to cry to laugh, 
The sum of life's existence, 
'Tis weal or woe, where'er you go 
A full share of remittance. 

'Tis those who mourn, who have out-bourne 

The seed of patience growing, 

Who calmly wait the chance of fate 

The proper time of sowing, 

But the cherished now. In pleasure bow 

Don't wait another moon-time. 

Right now begin, let sunshine in, 

Don't always wear the gloom-sign. 

n n 



^ Pesire 

There let me rest, for one brief time 
Forgetting all the world; 
Where rippling brooks 'neath shady nooks, 
The meadow, flower be-pearl'd. 

O, let me breathe the scent of thyme. 
And mints by sylvan dells, 
Where nature sleeps and every song 
A tender secret tells. 

« » 

Our perseverance should resemble the diligent 
spider, who, as often as it is destroyed weaves 
again and again its web. It teaches us a lesson 
against every difficulty, to build over and over 
again in preparation for the purpose we have in 
view, and to never yield to discouragement. 



16 Rtflections 



Paga f ike ^Ijcac 



The spicy wood, the glorious sun 
Invite to haunts where brooklets run, 
And inmost there, whole-souled and free, 
I wander in sweet ecstasy. 

I claim my own in days like these 
Companioned with the birds and trees, 
Quiescent there, the world aglow 
With rarely brilliant autumn show. 

I follow down the leaf strewn way 
And mark the beauteous closing day, 
The whole world glows in sweet content 
A rival to the firmament. 

The glittering rays of autumn's sun 
Spiced with odors there among. 
The hedges where the wild thrush weaves 
His nest in spring, 'neath branching leaves. 

I view with poignant fleeting sense 
The fluttering leaf, its message hence. 
And with a feeling propagate 
My soul vehement spurns the state. 

Recipient of the late "Good-bies" 

When flocks of birds soon south-ward hies, 

And impulse quickens lest I know 

The noiseless route they choose to go. 

And O my friends, beside the stream 
Lay siege my heart to lonely dream. 
The luring way, yet calls me on 
Still greatly loved when you are gone. 

To this same place you will come back 
In time, to trace the same old track. 
So fare-thee-well, I soon must know 
That prophesy ordains it so. 

And reticent in sweet content 
Accept to my emolument. 
Receptive all as nature sees 
The perfect way, in days like these. 

n tx 

There are many antipathies in life. People 
like flies walking with their heads downward, 
fearful to look up lest they come in contact with 
the ghosts of their imagination — cowards to their 
own soul! 



Reflections 17 



Ifllottifra for '^oftag 

Scatter the flowers of sunshine > 

Scatter them now today 

Lest the one that you love may wander 

Far from your side away. 

Yes, scatter the fair sweet blossoms 

O'er the paths where the weary ones stray 

To brighten and cheer them in sorrow 

To gladden their desolate way. 

No use for the flowers tomorrow 
We have need for them only today 
If you wait, perhaps you may place them 
O'er the grave where the loved ones lay 
Sleeping so peaceful and quiet 
They know not the words you say 
Then scatter the words of kindness 
Yes, scatter the flowers today. 
— Permission of Word and Works Pub. Co. 



Mv (Sifts 

I empty the contents of mind and heart 

Thoughts of assorted kind. 

And hope as I scatter them all broadcast 

Some beauty in each you will find; 

There are gems I have sought in Nature's bower 

Treasures of thoughtful care. 

Trophies of love I've kept for this hour 

And brought to you all a share. 

You will find a thought from the meadow fair, 

A thought from the wooded dell. 

And a thought from the dear old orchard there 

Where a gleam of the sunshine fell, 

I bring you a gem from the tiny stream 

That flows through the meadow land. 

And narrows down to a silvery gleam 

On the bright and glittering strand. 

There's a message too, from the robin brown 

That wheels his eager flight. 

And brings to spring a welcome crown 

'Neath the banks of warm sunlight, 

And I found a lily one sweet spring day 

Peeping out from the fern leaf dell 

I tucked it close to my heart away 

In love's casket there to dwell. 



18 Reflections 



I put with my treasures a violet too, 

Tucked deep in the mossy green 

That I brought from out of the pastures new 

Where many more were seen, 

There's a pink and white sweet clover bloom 

And a handful of daisies too; 

I've found a place and for all have room 

Think I've done pretty well, don't you? 

And here again, in the midst of all 
Will you find among the rest, 
A tiny note of youngibird's call 
High up from the tree top's crest, 
It brings a message of spring-tide dear, — 
This song from the apple trees. 
Rings out each note so sweet and clear 
Mid the hum of the busy bees, — 

That nestle among the springtime bloom 

To bend each blossom down, 

And gather the sweets of their rich perfume 

'Mid their petals of rose tint crown, 

There's a tender sigh from the sobbing pine 

That wailed in the dying breeze 

But I left it there, for I could not find 

A place for it here among these. 

The gladsome things of my heart's deep joy 

I want only the truth of love, 

I gather no tears for the heart's annoy 

But God's true blessings above, 

"I've kept a tryst with the murmuring leaves" 

Said love, to the rippling stream, 

"Because there is joy in the summer breeze 

And life in the daylight dream." 

I've gathered the twinkle of distant stars. 
And folded them in at night 
Out of the far-away realm of Mars 
Neath the shadow of pale moonlight, 
I've brought you a pillow of petals rare 
That I shook from the rose leaves light. 
And a few sweet dreams, to dream alway 
As they scent your sleep at night. 

I've brought you a cup of the morning dew 

To drink of its nectar at eve. 

To moisten the buds and the flowers too, 

And sprinkle each tiny leaf, 

I've brought you a scent of the sweet spring rain 

As it trickled a-down the vine. 

And pattered against the window pane 

By the porch where the roses climb. 



Reflections 19 



And I've gathered a square of velvet moss 
For a carpet soft and neat, 
To make lighter the troublesome way across 
Where gladness and sorrow meet. 
And I found a speck of heaven's blue sky- 
Just where the sun came out. 
While a dark little shadow flitted by 
With a sad neglected pout. 

For sighs and shadows I have no room 

'Mong the gifts I offer you, 

I have not garnered the heart's sad gloom 

Naught but refreshing thoughts imbue. 

There's a song of joy from the thankful hearts 

I have snugly tucked within. 

And I bring you the hope, glad truth imparts 

Of love's great discipline. 

I've gathered them all in a fair boquet 

Gems from Nature's bower sweet, 

And think when I've found your smiles of love 

My treasures will be complete. 

For 'tis most in the blessing that we receive, 

Which makes the gifts most dear 

That however small be the gratitude. 

Shall the giver be sincere. 



^rccepte 



Across the drifts the wild winds blow. 

O'er fields of ice and frost and snow 

The bleak wild waves from storm-tossed sea, 

Brings back the echo o'er the lea: 

And there upon the wave-washed shore 

Leaves trackless space forevermore. 

As true dissensions in a dream 
Means more than ever it may seem 
Intuition, is the stronger hold 
Of intellect's most proper mould, 
And, if you think to quick deceive. 
The fault is yours, pray then believe. 
You are the fool more than you think 
Then halt before you reach the brink. 
The lessons then that you would teach 
Pray learn them well, before you preach. 

The world's a critic you must know 
What seed is best and where to sow. 
Unless the soil is good and rich 



20 Reflections 



You might as well sow in the ditch, 
The same is true with effort brave 
That sometimes it is best to save — 
For waste of strength will wear you out, 
Where Ignorance is, without a doubt, 
Swine swallow pearls like peas; then, pray, 
Cast not your treasures in their way, 
And you will have the empty husk 
Your riches ground into the dust. 

So brave the effort while the test — 
Of strength is left to do your best. 
Go sing where music's caroled note 
Responds an echo from each throat. 
From song-birds home within the dell 
Your rightful kingdom there to dwell. 
Try not to live in silence reign 
Humbleness' sphere your only gain, 
It is not right to dwarf the spell 
Ambitions sleep within the dell, 
That kills all life and sucks the blood 
With debris makes a sweeping flood, 
And there you stand alone a wreck 
Immersed at last up to your neck. 
With no chance left for your escape, 
A victim fast of cruel fate. 

But hie away to sylvan dells 

Where each bird-note in rythm swells 

And sings aloud to those who hear 

Appreciation's friendly ear. 

No use to sing these tuneful notes 

When to deaf ears the music floats; 

No use to bend the arrow true, 

Until the game you have in view; 

No use to raise the voice and roar 

When half the congregation snore. 

No use to lock the door secure 

When from free access, thieves procure — 

Your every wealth the best you have 

Leave naught, not e'en the healing salve — 

Of hope, or trace, which you might gain 

Your treasures for you back again. 

'Tis only when you're sure you know. 
Success is yours, why then bestow? 
Where always ever you must rout — 
Suspense, forever live in doubt, 
Go take the ox then by the horns 
And fight against all odds and storms, 
Far better that, than slow decay 
Which in the end kills anyway. 



Reflections 21 



Fight for the right, e'en tho you fall, 
A calm will follow every squall. 
The tide comes in, the tide goes out 
For every rainy season, drought, 
For every tumult there is peace, 
For every sorrow, sweet surcease, 
The opposite for everything 
For every joy there is a sting 
There's hate and love, and joy and woe 
Reverse of things, where'er we go. 

The world goes round its orbit true. 

Why not a chance for me and you? 

Uphold the right and have an aim 

A purpose true, to justly claim. 

And if that aim be true and brave 

Why not respect from e'en a knave? 

For "Right is Right" since God is just 

If we but in the adage trust. 

And dwell where'er the sunshine beams, 

For in the shadow, slumber dreams, 

And in dark cellars lizards live 

Where'er the place the substance give. 

If then a lizard you would be 

Dwell in the dark eternally. 

But if you would your colors show 

Dwell in the sunlight's golden glow, 

As light gives color to the rose 

So intellect the minds' disclose. 

And learning's light to guide thee on 

Where laurels brave are freely won. 

The joy of knowing is to be. 

Resplendent with sweet ecstasy. 

Come out into the light and live. 
Mix socially, your talents give. 
To those who need a tiny share — 
Of just such gifts, as you may bear. 
Who do not know which way to turn 
Until from you these lessons learn. 
Health cannot be where shadows are, 
Nor peace, where rages din and war. 
Where dark the poison germs abide. 
And creeping things 'neath barrels hide. 
Dissension oft will dwarf the mind 
Unless we dwell among our kind. 
Magnanimous the gift to be 
Not only from a heart so free. 
It does not mean that you should pay 
Twice o'er the value, the same day. 
But gives so free his little mite. 
Then puts the question far from sight. 



22 Reflections 



There's nothing but shame in deceit and vain 

show, 
Like the water snake's colors, 'tis pretty but Oh, 
Its sting is the poison concealed in the slime 
Which deadens the soul to all beauty in time, 
A sibilant serpent creeping along 
'Mid the gay, unsuspecting and innocent throng. 

The world is a dream, the truth it misgives 
Knowing not fully how the other half lives, 
The untried way of the world between 
Where little of life has ne'er been seen, 
The treacherous bait of the evil way 
Rebukes the just for the unjust prey. 
And the world moves on with a timely pace 
Not knowing an atom of its disgrace. 

Give us the nature with expansive view. 
That penetrates the ethereal thro and thro, 
The soul that flows serene like a song 
Whose music echoes far and long. 

The secretive heart alone betrays — 

The lonely winding of its ways, 

And dwarf'd and old the visage throws — 

A mysterious light, where'er it goes. 

You wonder why, yet do not know 

Why warmth comes not from its steady glow. 

But the light of the soul of the free, sincere. 

Envelops us all, in its glad sphere. 

And warms the heart with assurance strong 

Of sympathy and love, for which we long. 



The thread in the weave of the golden cloth 
Disturbs not the joy of the sleeping moth. 
And he nibbles away in his snug little home 
Like the grub that turns in the murky loam. 
But the ruin wrought you will see in time 
Where 'tis nibbled close in the fabric fine, 
So evil betrays in the after while. 
The childish sweetness of a smile. 
And the truths that are buried shall rise again 
Like the moist earth follows the summer rain. 
And right shall be righted again in its rank. 
Hypocrisy leveled, where perfidy sank — 
To the depths of its woe, it returns again 
To writhe with its sisters, in sorrow and pain. 

The ungodly walk with a dignified air. 
His unnatural pose an ineffable snare. 
O'er his evil way he travels awhile 



Reflections 23 



And traces his victims for many a mile, 
But, his skill for the time is springing the trap 
To catch in the rebound, with a metallic snap — 
The unworthy hero, who burdens the soil — 
With his useless wandering and injurious toil, 
In the grave he has dug for others to fill 
Shall perish his bones, the mint for the till; 
Corrupt with his vice, he shall meet the last 

hour 
And with loathing detest his own wicked power. 

At his own game beaten, he has found all too 

late 
That his evil intent is his ruinous fate. 
That goodness alone, survives the last hour, 
The time that is given to blossom the flower. 
The things that outlast the passing of time 
Are goodness and truth, which the ages define — 
As the food, which nourishes the body so strong 
And gives it a place midst the heavenly throng. 

The wicked, for only a time very brief 

Shall succeed as a despot who soon comes to 

grief. 
Vain glory is theirs, they reap what they sow — 
Either flowers or thistles, the seed it will grow — 
And bear them the fruit full ripe in its time 
To bless or to curse them, the music will chime, 
They have tuned up the fiddle, the music will 

float 
With thythm or discord as becoming the note. 
And so, with the reverse of life's weal and woe 
We find that true justice will nature bestow. 

The earth is our own for a time to command. 
For industry only, the idle but stand 
For the perishable things, that rust and decay 
And count their time only, a night and a day. 
The rose in its beauty blooms full with a joy 
That only completness of time shall destroy. 
But the infected bud; shall fade ere its time 
And die ere its petals have felt the sublime 
Or the glorious fullness of life's happy day. 
As the stricken in youth fade soonest away. 
And know not the joy of life's happy song 
Nor the beauty pass'd by, its gift lost among 
The vastness of evil, destroying the dream 
Of life's glorious meaning, and its beautiful 
theme. 

There is a pow'r that leads m.e on, 
A hope my heart doth feed upon. 



24 Reflections 

Some pearls of tho't from life's great sea 

Where'er is fathomed, mystery; 

A tho't inherent with desire 

To keep on struggling ever higher 

The soul to reach the greater height 

To dwell within the Infinite. 

As plants do struggle t'ward the light 
So upward grows the inner sight 
And ev'ry deed and ev'ry plan, 
That shapes the mortal way of man 
Has its beginning with the sod 
To blossom with his spirit, God. 
Who grows his choicest blossoms here 
To beautify his glad sphere. 

Some, try to sift these truths apart 
God's inspiration of the heart, 
Deny that conscience is the voice 
By which we suffer, or rejoice. 
Reject the truth, despite the call. 
That vain conceit envelops all, 
Rebellious, heedless go their way 
To humbly meet, The Judgment Day. 

The sterner judge the truths impart 
And knows the purpose of each heart. 
Defines the meaning of the true,.. 
Who willing duty e'er pursue, 
Again, he knows the obstinate 
Who soon shall learn their final Fate 
That meekness only, shall employ 
Their right to know. Eternal joy. 

And reformation make anew 
All those, who would the right pursue. 
Redeeming grace for those oppressed 
Who have with willing, all confessed. 
To re-elect the power and state.. 
By which he may regenerate. 
Consign to him, which is his own 
The Ensign for his Royal Throne. 

Fill your heart with renewed effort and live 
for and in the future, the past is gone, with a 
regret or hope which none may change. It is 
what we are in the present which counts, and it 
is foolish to review and brood over the past, as 
it is to continually read over a story you al- 
ready know by heart. 



Reflections 2S 



ITotte ^Reminiscent 

You remember the flowers we gathered that day 
When we strolled by the bank of the stream? 
And the whispering waters seemed ever to say 
Perfection of love's golden dream? 

And onward as ever persistently flowing 
The same little stream I remember so well, 
Pervading my heart with the same colors show- 
ing 
The field flowers too, which we pluck'd in the 
dell. 

Persuasive with all, are sweet memories ever 
Perplexing my heart with a story so true. 
And I wonder if ever the same lovely vision 
Haunts your sweet dreams or comes back to 

you? 

And if the same pleasure forever perceptive 
Steals from your rest those hours of song 
Or if in your being the phorescence of loving 
Illumes the loved way, which to me hath seemed 
long? 

For since ever that day, a sweet understanding 
So faithful and true was given to me; 
And life seems to hold a vivid commanding 
Illuming the path-way, e'er guided by thee. 

And I trust the illusion but fondly enhances 
The day-dream so dear of the sweet long ago, 
The delirious longing and subtle sweet fancies 
The implicit questioning my heart would bestow. 

For long have I burned the incense I worship. 
Heedless of all, but the one I love true, 
Impulsively waiting the import of pleasure 
The days soon combining my treasures with you. 



Lying, may be considered a valuable asset in 
some instances, but, as truth is always most 
necessary, the greatest risk to run, is that a liar 
is not always believed when he does tell the 
truth. 

n » 

Be not too unjust in your criticism of others, 
lest you accuse wrongfully the innocent and 
good. 



26 Reflection* 



There's always another day 
If this one has proven untrue, 
The morrow may fill your desires. 
Of what you are wishing to do. 

Tomorrow may be the great day, 
The fulfillment of all that you crave 
Yet with it, may come tears of grief 
Sadness, death and the grave. 

For sometimes there's wishing and longing 
And prayers most selfishly vain, 
And that which we thought was a blessing 
But filled us with heartache and pain. 

Be content if the present be joyful, 
You know not the wearisome day 
The future tomorrow may bring you, 
By fretting the present away. 

Then take the world as you find it 
Content in the present to be. 
For the future yoa know not the ending 
Nor the heritage of uncertainty. 

Live the day, as though 'twere the last one, 
Forgetting the past as you will. 
By making the present so cheerful 
That the Future all joy shall fulfill. 

u n 



(Eantcmplatton 



I sometimes ask, is it worth while? 

To seek for things which ere beguile — 

The heart to struggle ever on 

To wish more laurels might be won? 

I know our life is brief at best 

And that ere long we sink to rest; 

So, to arrange things as I plan 

To do so much in this brief span, 

To fret, rejoice, to weep or smile 

I sometimes think. Is it worth while? 

The years so marked that we must know, 
The choicest gifts our minds' bestow, 
And where to end the tasks begun 
Ere this short life its race has run, 
And yet, if plants would cease to bloom 
And cheer us with their sweet perfume. 



Reflections 27 



Or other things, most incomplete 
That which we think divinely sweet — 

Would cease to be, their part in life, 

What dullness wrought, what erring strife, 

The upward growth in life is best. 

For earth is toil; in heaven rest. 

So earth, is morning fresh and fair — 

As heaven is night's eternal care. 

We sink to rest in sweet repose 

In perfect peace, our eyelids close. 

Knowing full well His vigil near. 
We therefore have no cause to fear — 
Its mysteries too, shall we divine 
And fathom all in His good time. 
Through faith alone shall heaven bless,- 
The glory earned, in Time's duress. 
His plan so perfect when we see 
The endless days of harmony. 

n n 

Sweet Eunice is a Fairie nymph of dimplish 

smiling fun. 
Her eyes a bit of azure tint, her hair the golden 

sun. 
Her lips are like the coral strand found in the 

distant seas. 
Her smiles, are like the flowers rare that tempt 

the busy bees. 
And O my rival, little fan of airy gauzy lace 
Where butterflies entwine the weave, that nestles 

'bout her face. 
The painted orchids with the bloom that make a 

dainty frieze 
A picture fair of colors rare, they call it Jap- 
anese; 
I know not which I envy most, the times you 

touch her lips. 
Or when you rest upon her breast, and dainty 

finger tips — 
Embrace you close, caressingly you cool the 

snowy shoulders, 
While passion flames and flares till low, the> 

burning heart it smolders, 
I'd ask the breeze to fain be still, that I might 

round her hover, 
That she would wield with dainty grace the one 

who'd always love her. 



28 Reflecticns 



l^ottelg Hearts 



There are many lonely hearts 

Scattered in the world today, 
Longing for some recognition 

In the least and kindliest way; 
Longing for some true affection 

That some loving heart might give, 
To brighten up a weary pathway 

So that one could better live. 

In the desolate by-way places 

Some have found a harbor there. 
Gifted hearts of by-gone treasures 

Help another's lot to share; 
You who know society's glamor 

You whose life is one sweet song, 
Would you stop to send a message 

To cheer a lonely heart along? 

For remember in the shadow 

Where the sunshine cannot go, 
You could send a rift of pleasure 

Like a silver ripple's flow. 
Just remember in your gladness 

There's a lonely "Far Away" 
Where some heart is weeping, pining 

For a thought from you today. 

So if kindness is your mission 

And if heaven is your goal 
Share your happy, pleasant pastime 

With some poor discouraged soul. 
Let him know and feel your kindness 

In some sweet suggestive way 
Keep your record full o'er flowing 

With the good you've done today. 

— By permission of Word and Works 
Publishing Co. 

n tt 

Egotism is a disease, which like the decay in 
the heart of the fruit, absorbs all in time. A per- 
son so afflicted has a defect of character which 
cannot be considered normal. 

n tx 

It is only the original superior minds who 
question the soul problem. The weakling de- 
pendent, imitate and follow like sheep, where 
others lead. 



Reflections 29 



Peep %\\t Jffire-sibc ^utrttitt0 ^n0l|% 

Keep the fire-side burning brightly, 
With a sure and steady glow 
Lest the ones we love and cherish 
From their homes may want to go. 

Keep the fire-side burning brightly, 
Stronger home-ties then unite, 
So the loved ones long may linger 
Near its warm and cheery light. 

For too oft the fire burns dimly 
Cheerless place the heart and home 
And the loved ones long to wander 
Long to leave it and to roam. 

They will wander far to find it 
Joy and peace and warm fire-side. 
If their own is cold and dismal 
They will travel far and wide. 

For the human heart is longing 
For the joys they cannot find, 
When the love-tie has been broken 
In the home they've left behind. 

Keep the fire-side burning brightly, 
Full of love and happy cheer 
If you'd keep the dear ones with you 
If you'd have them always near. 



W\\tn '^\\t J^osca <Arc ^U done 

Like old friends we miss the roses 
And the beauty of their bloom; 
The fragrance of their flowers 
And their rare and rich perfume 
The bush where fragrant billows 
Of rich roses freshly sown 
Now bereft of bud and blossoms, 
When the roses are all gone. 

There will come another June-time 
We must wait another year 
For the flowers to be budding, 
And the roses to appear. 
Other flowers in their season 
Will be blooming all along 
Tho' the garden seems so vacant 
When the roses all are gone. 



30 Reflections 



f ittle i:i|iit0a 

It is the "little things" that often make us sad 
The "little things" that pierce through the heart 
The "little things" that sometimes make us glad 
Through all which we contend with equal mart. 

The "little things" that gladden all the way 
That dispel the cruel sin and strife 
The "little things" we ought, or ought not say 
That make or mar our happiness through life. 

Then be thoughtful for the "little things" my 

friend, 
In every word and action, thought or deed, 
For 'tis the "little things" that help to always 

mend 
The little rents in things we mostly need. 

If only but a kind word or a smile 
Or friendly greeting on Life's highway 
It helps but for a moment to beguile 
The clouds unto the sunhine of the day. 

— Published in Christian Herald 

n tt 



"^l^e filler 

Softly flows the rippling river, 
Underneath a summer sky. 
Bending boughs of sweetest fragrance, 
As the days go hurrying by. 

And as brightly glows the sunset 
In yon far off distant west. 
As the brightly plumaged warbler 
Poises on his rocky crest . 

O the days of happy summer 
And the winding river's way. 
Picturesque scenes in memory's vision 
In my heart doth ere hold sway. 

As the bee finds sweetest nectar 
In the calyx of the rose, 
So the dreamer finds enchantment 
In Dame Nature's sweet repose. 

— By Permission Simmon's Pub. Co. 

n n 

Everything in life has its draw-back, even the 
rose has its worm. 



Reflections 31 



1| |[otrc to JK^cmfmbcr 

I love to remember the sweet days of child-hood, 
The spring-time of life and the spring-time of 

year, 
It does my heart good to breathe in the Incense 
Of sweet tender memories of days I hold dear. 

And many sweet spring-times I recall with fond 

pleasure. 
With a bird-note or wind-whisper it comes all 

back to me. 
And once more I am the same child as ever. 
That romped with light heart o'er the daisy 

decked lea. 

No thought or a care of the years in the distance, 
My heart it grew wild with the breath of the 

spring. 
And happy I wandered o'er woodland and 

meadow 
Where sweetest of joys to my child-heart did 

bring. 

The sunshine to me, seemed to shine a wee 

brighter. 
The flowers seemed then more profusely to 

bloom. 
Perhaps it was then, my heart too was lighter. 
And in it, more joys of sweet nature found room. 

And I know that whenever the birds started sing- 
ing 

I took time to listen to every sweet note. 

And all through the day they trilled sweetest of 
music 

From out of the wood-land so fair and remote. 

I knew just precisely where the wild fruit grew 

thickest 
And the winter green berries, I remember so 

well, 
Hid their little round buds 'neath the ferns and 

the mosses 
Among the green leaves in the wild daisy dell. 

And I knew the wild flowers, where the bees 

found sweet nectar 
Down in the meadow where the wheat grew so 

tall, 



32 Reflections 



And there 'mong the flowers and sweet scented 

clover, 
They wandered from spring-time till late in the 

fall. 

Yes, I love to remember the joys of those 

spring-times, 
The first violets peeping and the breath of thelf 

bloom. 
And I sigh when I think, like the petals of 

flowers. 
Life's youth-time doth vanish alike all too soon. 



^ecpsakfs 



Who has not some tender keepsake 
They have fondly stowed away, 
So to cherish for remembrance. 
Tokens of a by-gone day. 

Perhaps 'tis but a bit of ribbon 
A rose-bud, or a faded rose; 
Or a package of old letters, 
Treasured as the custom goes. 

In your little treasure casket. 
You will hide a golden curl 
Stolen from the baby's tresses 
Of your long lost little girl. 

There's a shoe and little stocking 
Fancy striped, that Grandma knit, 
That for all the world you'd never 
Wish to lose, or part with it. 

There's a string of beads, some laces. 
Heirlooms of the olden time 
Grandma wore in quaintest fashion, 
When she with Grandpa went to dine. 

And so many are the keepsakes 
We have treasured through the years. 
Some have brought us happy pleasure 
Others too, have wrought the tears, 

So I wonder if 'twere better 

As I look mine o'er again. 

To keep the best that bears the pleasure. 

And cherish not, which brings the pain. 



Reflections 33 



When the trees are tinged with green 
And fair the summer night, 
Hush to sleep the lily bells 
And lilacs blossom with delight, 
And roses 'mid the tender leaves 
So sweetly bud and grow; 
While warm and soft the summer breeze 
O'er earth's fair bower doth blow. 
It is Spring! 

When the trees are tinged with gold 
And the hickory scented leaves. 
Waft their fragrance as of old 
To the dusky dying breeze. 
When the trees are tinged with gold 
Golden sunset cloudless sky 
And the amber shades behold 
Summer days are passing by. 
It is Autumn! 

n n 



^pprcnati0n 



Many mornings have I seen the sunset glowing 
Its gleam to steal across the Eastern sky; 
I have heard the song birds in the meadow sing- 
ing 
Their sweet low plaintive evening lullaby, 
I have felt the soft resplendent morning zephyr, 
Inhaled the mist that fed the scented dew 
All filled my soul with joyous effervescence 
With appreciations love, my heart imbue. 

Beholding God's true world of teeming pleasure. 
The truths as Nature pictures them to me 
Full toned the orchestra in rythmic measure, 
And trilled to music true, the bird-song's melody 
Oh, the language of the spaces and the silence 
Revealing charms of treasures deep alloy, 
A breath of balmy breeze and budding flowers 
Infinitesimal of early morning joy. 

U « 

A counteiieit coin passes through many hands, 
and, as by continuous wear the warp of the 
v/eave is shown, so its unworthiness is discover- 
ed at last. The same is true with deception. 



34 Reflections 



'^[ft #tra5 fetal 



A stray petal blown on the dying breeze 

Out in the garden fair 
Found refuge at last out under the trees 

In a maiden's golden hair. 
The petal she pressed to her lips so red 

Sweet as a lover's kiss, 
And made a wish that soon she would wed, 
And her life be filled with bliss. 

A year has gone, and the roses bloom 

Out in the garden fair. 
Again it is a day in June, 

With roses everywhere. 
The maiden's bridal was her grave 

Naught did her wish come true. 
Now over her mound the roses wave 
And scatter their petals too. 

n n 



#tticetl|earta 

Two rosebuds grew by the wayside fair. 

Two rosebuds ope'd to the sun, 

Simple wild-roses they grew and they loved 

Their petals caressing until they seemed one; 

But the frost touched the leaves of the little 

wild-rose. 
It withered and fell to the ground, 
And a sad little flower was the little wild-rose 
That alone by the wayside I found. 

» n 



"^{^i #0110 of Autumn 

Come to the wild-wood when the summer is 

waning 
Come where the brook ripples on o'er the way, 
Over the hills the sunset is fading 
And Autumn in glory and splendor holds sway 
Come while the dew on the grass in the morning 
Glistens on Asters and Sweet Golden Rod, 
O, come where Autumn is tinting the hillsides 
The Fall-rose and thistle bloom beckon and nod. 
Ah, soon will their glories be fading and dying 
And summer in sadness has breathed a farewell, 
O; come where the leaves so gently are falling 
And each on their mission have a secret to tell. 



Reflections 3S 



If we are loved by one 
Why life is worth the living. 
If one true friend we've won 
Then joy our heart is giving. 

If we are loved by one, 
Our life is not in vain, 
Our hearts in truth begun 
Shall ever thus remain. 

Never a useless life 
If we are loved by one. 
Despair may ne'er be rife 
With duty overcome. 

Never dark the night 
While shines a single star, 
A glow of pearly light 
Gleams to us afar. 

We need to ne'er despair 
A hopeless life to shun 
For earth seems always fair. 
If we are loved by one. 

n » 



c^utumn'a ^ta^^t 



Autumn shuddering on the threshold 

Of winter's calm and deep. 
With silent summer melodies 

The flowers hushed in sleep. 
The autumn tints vast lovliness 

Wears gay her brilliant crown 
Unmindful of the soft snow flakes 

That soon come twirling down. 
In regal glory there displayed 

The red and amber trees. 
While sighing winter whisperings 

Are borne upon the breeze. 
Soft as the hush at twilight, 

Comes lingering calm and still. 
And shadows dark and lengthening 

Dims the brow of yonder hill. 

U U 

Read something new, live something new, and 
be progressive and happy. 



36 Reflecti 



Rummer dloubs 

What has become of that fleecy cloudlet 
Sailing away in the blue? 
Like drifting waves on the foaming billows 
Matching the heavens true. 

Azure tints of the sea-clouds rolling, 
Sailing with ease o'er the boundless way 
Mingling the sapphire into the silver 
Mixing the wild sea-spray. 

What has become of the fleecy cloudlet 
Waves of the sea-foam white? 
Melting banks in the distant heavens 
Fading away out of sight. 

What has become of the heart's hope and glad- 
ness. 
Drifting thoughts in the heart so true? 
What has become of our love's sweet longing 
Dearest of dreams, since I met you? 

Light are the dreams of fancy's wandering, 
Quiet and peaceful the Infinite rest 
Fading away on the ocean billows 
Cloud-banks, bearing love's wandering quest. 

Drifting dreams like the skies soft billows, 
Pearly seas of the far away. 
Fleeting visions, the breezes bearing 
Gently my prayers for you to-day. 
i% ♦♦ 

<An (Auhnitn generic 

Deep toned the tints in amber hue, 

Blended in gold and brown 

A symphony of colors rare. 

The herbage richly crown'd 

A golden glory in the haze 

September's drawing nigh, 

A tint of brown on every leaf 

On every breeze a sigh. 

The summer bids a brief farewell. 

The bird calls to its mate 

And hies away to southern climes 

The season's growing late. 

n XX 

A clear conscience is the still water of peace, 
in the turbulent sea of unrest. 



Reflections 3 7 



%\^t ^mblem of ^AltcsttH 

An anxious little Buttercup to the Daisy said, 
"Tell me please a story, before I go to bed. 
The 'Legend of the Daisy' I would gladly hear 
And I will keep quiet you need to have no fear. 

Now tell me little Daisy bright, "How was your 

life begun?" 
The Daisy nodded assent, the simple story spun, 
The Buttercup's eyes grew wider as she the 

story heard, 
And anxiously she listened to every pretty word. 

"Were you then the favorite in the fields and 
flowers? 

Where once the poet wandered 'mid sunny sum- 
mer bowers? 

And kneeling by the Daisy thus was wrought a 
dream 

As the poet wandered in his gilded theme." 

The "Emblem of Alcestis" flower of all the 

flowers 
Thus he called the Daisy in those sunny bowers 
The "Emblem of Alcestis" we have called her 

since 
She was sweetly christened by the "Poet Prince." 



JHortitue J^e Pear 

Forgive me dear, if in my dreams 
I hear your voice again 
And hearken to your whisper low 
And hear you call my name. 

If in my dreams, I see your face 
With love for me aglow, 
Soft glances there with pleasure wrought 
As in the long ago. 

Forgive me, dear, if when I awake 
And find that dream unreal 
No sunshine for the day is mine 
No warmth my heart doth feel. 

n n 

We stumble many times before we learn to 
walk, and, that same perseverance inborn with 
us. should not become dormant the moment we 
have had an awakening, but with the better 
knowledge, should lift us even to greater heights. 



38 Reflections 



O, the dry withered leaves of a Jacqueminot 

rose, 
Their faded beauty doth a romance enclose, 
Of a love long ago in their blushing prime 
I have almost forgotten, 'tis such a long time. 

When I threw this same rose far away on the 

breeze, 
That night when he gave it, and these are the 

leaves; 
And this I am sure now but faintly discloses. 
That at least, I have had some regard for his 

roses. 

For I gathered them up when he went away 
And cried my heart out all the next day. 
He never came back and he married my friend. 
Of my little love story now this is the end. 

I know I was sorry the moment I did it; 

But my pride, thro the years, I have stubbornly 

hid it. 
I was to blame! but there's nobody knows; 
No one but myself, and the Jacqueminot Rose. 
» tt 



Bend low little blossom 
Bend low to the sun, 
Drink deep of the dew 
When the morning has come. 

For all thy need 
Nature ever conceives, 
Drink, drink thirsty flower 
From the dew dripping leaves. 

n n 



In vain we lavish kindness 
The gifts of love are sown. 
On those whose selfish blindness 
No thankfulness is shown. 

n n 

There is always a 'log on the track ^ for timid 
people who never get anywhere. 



Reflections 39 



Wljcn tljc Wilb -IRoac (So^a tc #leep 

Do you know that the wild-rose goes to sleep 
And folds its pink petals in at night? 
Along by the bank where the moonbeams creep 
To ope with the morning light. 

The petals quite close to the heart of the rose 
There nestle so loving and true, 
Like a fair sweet babe on its mother's breast 
Kissed by the morning dew. 

little wild-rose by the brook in the sun 

1 am glad when the sun wakes you up, 

And the petals unfold to the heart of the rose 
To the depth of its pink tinted cup. 

There is joy by the brook when the sun shines 

fair 
And the butterflies circle all 'round. 
And follow the fragrance of the wild-rose flower 
Where the sweet little rose buds are found. 

There to dive right in for a dainty dish 
So deep in the honey-tipped petals so rare 
To sip the sweets for their eager need 
In the morning sunshine fair. 
iX XX 



If we knew how short our life here, 
How uncertain every hour. 
We would cherish every moment 
Now while yet within our power. 
If we knew the day was fleeting 
And the night would be our last, 
We would shape a better future 
From the pages of the past. 
XX XX 

O, shall the flowers bloom again 
And shall the birds sing as before? 
The sunshine warm come stealing in 
To bless my heart forever-more; 
O, will the weary winter pass 
And disappear the ice and snow? 
Shall we forget the chilling blast 
When spring-time zephyrs gently blow? 
« XX 

True friends are as rare as the mountain 
edleweiss, and about as difficult to procure. 



40 Reflectiona 



Peatlr 



It comes to one and all! 

We do not know how soon 

Some loved one may be carried 

To the cold and silent tomb. 

It is the pause that stops the pace. 

That runs too fast its way, 

The command of Him, our Father, 

Whose mandates we obey. 

To put to shame the obstinate 
The cold relentless will 
To change the course of curses 
And with sweet humility fill 
The hearts so hardened, reckless, 
Who never stop to think — 
That every hour that's passing 
Brings them nearer to the brink. 

Death is certain! let us hearken! 
While the funeral train goes by, 
Hearts are softened, once so careless 
When this one sad hour is nigh. 
Then remember and be wary! 
For we do not know how soon, 
Some loved one, may be carried — 
To the cold and silent tomb. 



There is a resignation after death, 

That soothes the mourning heart 

A reassurance from this life of weal and woe, 

For naught can heal, but time adjust — 

With measured beat and slow. 

Our friends, we meet with faithful trust and 

note — 
Their prayers, and thoughtful gifts of love, 
And yet, they are but hopeless whisperings on 

the breeze, 
Because, our help must come from heaven above. 

Our grief, alas! It is our own! 
Tears of relief are shed upon the bier 
And we, the poor sad wanderer left alone, 
Upon the drear, dark hemisphere. 

But time and trust, will make the sun to shine 

once more, 
O troubled heart! faint not upon the way. 
Sweet peace will come! and joy will once again 

be thine — 

Another day! 



Reflections 41 



^Inspiration 

The tho't soars from my fettered soul, and 

spreads its pinions wide, 
It sees the world in fleeting print, a painting 

there beside 
A landscape too, with meadows fair and trees so 

tall and grand 
So near it seems, that I can reach and touch it 

with my hand, 
A brook, some cattle browsing near, and sheep 

on gray hill-side 
Are wandering where the fresh green tufts and 

meadow flowers abide, 
And some beneath the shadowed oak lie down in 

sweet content 
To sniff the fragrant summer air, 'neath Heav- 
en's firmament. 

The horizon's blue and crimson hue, in blended 

purple haze 
Reveals a castle, gray and old, beyond the distant 

maze, 
A gilded frame of sunlight gold, completes the 

graveur true 
Where outlined there, the meadow fair, beneath 

the azure blue. 
And Nature's color, e'er complete, beside the 

painter's brush 
Who'd vain bestow a pleasing view to twilight's 

afterhush. 
And with its beauty all serene, could painters 

ere compare? 
The pasteled light as blended, by God's work 

everywhere. 

A silver winding brooklet wanders somewhere 

down the glen 
And through the fertile valleys soon ripples back 

again. 
The branching trees and soft sunshine alone are 

keeping tryst 
'Till night-shades gather in the glade and falls 

the dewy mist. 
The stars come out, the moon shines high, re- 
splendent is the light. 
With tender glow the twinkling stars illume the 

summer night. 
And midst the lily-flowered dell, a kinship of 

the whole 
Comes into fuller life, the sky, and sanctifies the 

soul! 



42 Reflections 



The busy bees go humming by, on fleet melodious 
wing 

From busy haunt in wild rose bower, their plund- 
er homeward bring, 

The witchery of the silent hour enshrined in 
golden light — 

Reflects in soft harmonious tints, the vision of 
the night, 

The wooded glen awakes the heart to dreams of 
yesterday 

And thrills the soul to sweet desire, for fond 
love's melody. 

Amid the haunts of mystic land true harmony en- 
thralls 

The heart too seeks the Infinite when Inspiration 
calls. 

And there to wind in silvery weave the robe of 

fancies' dream, 
Where blue birds chant their round-de-lay, beside 

the purling stream. 
The golden glow of summer days soft in the twi- 
light blends — 
In opal tint, the sun and moon their halo far 

descends. 
As to sweet Nature's melody the poet's ear 

awakes — 
In spirit drawn, communes he there, for his own 

pleasure's sake 
Alike sweet ministrants that list to every leafy 

knoll 
He longs to solve the mysteries, that soothe the 

anxious soul. 

And out beneath the open sky dwells endless 

harmony 
The creed for all alike to know, the love of bird 

and bee, 
And there the glory all express'd of his sublime 

creating — 
Is found amidst the woodland tryst, the story of 

their mating, 
The fragile flowers list to hear, the story sweet 

and true — 
Of minstrel's song, and quiet praise, 'neath scents 

of dusk and dew, 
The silver dewdrops moist the earth where vio- 
lets bloom and nod, 
And make the earth a garden, like the Paradise 

of God! 

n tx 

Follies written on the pages of the past, are not 
pleasant memoirs for the present. 



Reflections 43 



Where tlie hemlock boughs bend low in the 

silence, 
And the song-birds lilt in the sunset way. 
Where a gleam of the gold thro branches are 

spreading 
Tell of the summer days passing away; 
Dark green boughs where the sunset is fading, 
Purple the beams in the azure glow; 
Twilight descending, and cool shadows showing 
Down under the trees, with the boughs bending 

low. 

The night stars come out with a silvery gleam- 
ing. 
Hushed, are the flowers asleep with the stars. 
Softly the hours so swiftly are passing 
With Night-time and Moon-time, vanish all cares. 
Day-dreams and fancies, awake with the morning 
Sunlight and shadows dance o'er the hills 
Down in the valley to steal 'mong the flowers. 
And glide with the movement of soft rippling 
rills. 

Follow the fancies like butterflies flitting 
To gather the sweets from the honeyed crest. 
Away 'mong the shadows where hidden the flow- 
ers 
Go seek where the treasures are sweetest and 

best, 
O dear little fancies! and dear little flowers! 
Dear little things, which make life complete, 
Thousands of details amass a great fortune 
While fancies are waking and bright flowers 
sleep. 

» n 



%\\t Human JJ!tJfi^ob« 



Do you know that there's an insect terrible 

That clings to the heart of things? 

That has only two legs to walk with 

And has arms instead of wings? 

You'll find it to be quite numerous 

Though hidden away out of sight. 

And you'll be stung before you know it, 

Unless you focus your X-ray right. 

All scientists have discovered 

That when magnified good and bright. 

In their test of this insect closely, 

'Tis the mean little "Penny Mite"! 



44 Reflectiona 



'Hlft m^ of tl|e Wavlh 

Troubles will come in spite of the fact 

That things all seem lovely and fair, 

And oft with a crush, there comes a mad rush 

With a hundred small trials to bear, 

'Tis the thing most unlook'd for, that travebour 

way, 
An unwelcome tourist, 'tis true, 
And ere wise entertainment a brief half an hour. 
There's something gone wrong, we feel blue. 

We can't please the people, there's no use to try, 

So varied the nature of those — 

Who love themselves only, and seek but to 

court — 
The things which most pleases the pose. 
We must bear a cross, in some way or other, 
As things which oft come unawares 
And we find enough worry, to make life a flurry 
And a balance of troublesome cares. 

If we try to do right and goeasy a mite. 

People quite readily see. 

And soon take possession of everything good 

The "Boss" of your welfare to be. 

'Tis a funny old world so peculiarly peopled. 

The folks, not the world I should say; 

Its a conundrum to know, a friend from a foe 

And where the debts of kindness to pay. 

There's no use to think, when you said down 

life's stream. 
There's no rippel a tall in the wave. 
Though the way seems serene and joy dazzles 

the dream. 
There's drift-wood ahead,-so be brave. 
You can't shift it either, though shrewd you 

would be 
Your life is mapped out for you, 
A beautiful chart, from the dawn of your birth, 
God's compass, which tallies all true! 

n n 

If there is no power we call the soul 
And death goes only to the grave. 
Why don't we then the earth control 
And make a wise man of the knave? 
If conscience is a secret thing. 
And has no vital part in life 
Why all this upward, errant hope 
And inward struggle, we call life? 



Reflections 45 



■per #aitct«m 



On the summit of the mountain, of the pictures- 
que old Cheyenne 

The blue skies' dome above it, reflect the shad- 
ows in the glen, 

'Mid the lonely solemn stillness where the mag- 
pie's call is heard 

Not a sound to break the silence, but the glad 
song of the bird, 

There methinks I hear the stirring of the Muse 
of long ago. 

Prom the silence comes the whisperings, of the 
songs she used to know; 

On the cliffs among the mountains, strange, ma- 
jestic, great, divine. 

Stole those tho'ts of sweetest music, where was 
penne'd each native rhyme. 

Back years ago, but not forgotten, sweetly steals 

those tho'ts so true. 
Echoes back in rythmic splendor, sweetest 

memories ever new, 
There alone, enraptured stillness on those 

wondrous mountain heights 
Hied she often to her musing, to drink in their 

rare delights. 
Eight thousand feet above sea level, where the 

mountain streams below 
Echo onward, thro the valleys, with their soft 

low dulcet flow. 
O'er the distant rolling prairies, pensive oft her 

longing gaze 
Lost in fancies' admiration, 'midst the blue and 

distant haze. 

Gorgeous rose the Sister Mountains, hedged her 
aerie round and round. 

Where the golden sunshine falling, touched a 
lonely sacred mound, 

Hidden by the pine-trees sobbing, list the 
screaming eagle's cry, 

As it seeks its rocky aerie, chiseled there against 
the sky. 

In her rambles o'er the mountains, in her wand- 
erings by the glen 

We have paused and heard the music, of her 
soul inspired pen. 

Near the clouds, an inspiration came divine, so 
pure and true 

In fair sunny Colorado, where the skies are al- 
ways blue, 



46 Reflections 



Thoughts, a melody of music, Renowned Author 

of the past, 
As she loved the streams and mountains, May 

her memory ever last! 

Written after a visit to Helen Hunt Jackson's 
grave in the Cheyenne Mountains, Colorado, 
July Fourth, 1909. 

n n 

Ah, could it be the same is it was then. 
And could we be the same dear friends again. 
Could we go back the same old quiet path 
And whisper love's sweet longing, in the after- 
math. 

Oh, could the tears be blotted out of life's fair 

page 
And once more, now as then, all joy presage 
The same confidence beside the trusting 

heart 
Bid doubt to flee, and grief depart. 

Could fairest hope crown love's Yule-tide 
And sweetest joy reign there beside; 
And could the trust of long ago; 
Light up the flame with its tender glow. 

Could all this seem as the truth would seem 
The grand awakening of the dream. 
And transformation again make new 
The friendship once, 'tween me and you, 
I would be happy here! 

The first to bloom is the first to fade 
When the frosts of winter cover the glade. 
And that which seems brightest in its prime 
Perishes often, before its time. 

So envy not the prim rose-tree. 

That scatters its petals o'er the lea. 

Its falling leaves fade all too soon 

In the one brief month, that we call "June"! 

» XX 
The immeasurable sweetness of a happy hour 

with a friend is like a bright symphony from the 

pages of a pretty book. 



Reflections 47 



fife's (Contrast 

Oh, the morning can never be so fair 
But what the clouds may overtake the day. 
And brighest hopes to meet with sad despair 
When myriad shadows change its melody. 

So, doth Time modify our every ill 
And reckons joy to intercede our woe. 
Intensifies, our purpose to its will 
And dominates the spirit, where we go. 

As Faith's mirage illuminates the way 

Incites the mind to struggle ever on, 

So Hope alone, defines its feeble ray 

And guides the tho't we put our trust upon. 

The ebb of time shall hasten our bequest. 
We live to learn, in patience true and sweet 
Accept the gifts, by which we are most blest, 
And never yield to cunning or defeat. 



'Tis not in the value of gifts we make 
That proves our purpose true, 
Nor is it the worth of gold or plate, 
But the spirit 'tis given you. 

We measure the gift by the giver's heart 
A mite from its generous store. 
Is worth millions of gifts of treasure rare 
Who never consider you more. 

The best we give of the best we have. 
Whether 'tis great or small, 
Is counted most, by our willing host 
Than those who give nothing at all. 



If I cannot solve to-day 
All the problems planned for me. 
Perhaps the glad tomorrow 
Shall make my mind more free. 

Thus I wait in patient hoping. 
Summoning all the help I can 
From the pow'r eternal, faithful, 
Which is ere at my command. 

And I know^ that when the morrow 
Brings the sun, the dew and rain, 
I shall soon in time decipher 
What is for my truest gain. 



48 RefUctiona 



And the joy of that fulfillment 
Shall bring its blessed peace, 
After sorrow and the heart-ache, 
Will come my sweet surcease. 



^ Mmitx #itnrtse 



Behold the winter sunrise! Pasteled the wintry 

sky, 
A gleam of gold to lend it warmth, a shadow 

drifting by. 
Soft toned the pink of leaden hue, a dim 

light atmosphere. 
When the frost and snow across the fields, in 

ice fringed cloak appear. 
Brighter the sun still higher grows, its gleam 

aslant the winter snows, 
And clearly thro the branches bare, a million 

diamonds everywhere — 
Of glistening ice, and freezing snow, while win- 
ter sun with warmth aglow 
Folds o'er a veil of fleecy cloud, pink- tint with 

gray and leaden shroud, 
Glorious its beams across the snow, into each 

heart its light doth flow. 
And steals a gleam across the skies. Reflections 

of the gold sunrise. 



If 

If wishes were fairies, and thoughts were things, 
What wonderful treasures the mind oft brings, 
Our turbulent longings would be a sea — 
Of raging, fitful expectancy. 

How much fulfilled of the hopes we know 
Thought- triumph, for either weal or woe. 
The mind a geyser of bursting flood 
Surmounting the heights, if understood. 

And bringing the treasures from every store 
Content with little, yet searching for more 
The errant thought of the active mind 
Like the meadow brook, to wind and wind. 

The ceasless flow of the wild, wild wave, 
To end in the terminus of the grave. 
But the spirit it leaves, on the limitless shore. 
Shall be our talisman evermore. 



Reflections 49 



The wild-rose has a legend 
By the roaming Gypsy queen, 
She, a poet sentimental 
In sweet Nature's land serene. 

And each flower is a symbol 
That she greets with eager eye, 
Knows she well, their meaning truly, 
As she passes each one by; 

But the wild-rose is her favorite 
That fills her heart with mirth, 
■'TIS the sweetness of heaven. 
With the gladsomeness of earth." 

n n 

Where poppies steal a glimpse of blushes red, 
Beneath the waving sweep of yellow corn, 
Where bees around the honeyed clover bed 
And birds sing sweet from out the jeweled 
morn. 

There life is sweet! 

» a 

Keep hoping, for some day the tide will turn 
And much shall be yours, for which you yearn. 
Much you have sigh'd for, shall yet be your gain 
If you will be patient, your waiting's not vain. 

n n 

A dark little cloud in a rift of blue, 
Where soon the sunshine will peep thro 
The sun will scatter the cloudlet away 
And we shall have then, a sunshiny day. 
tt tt 

If perfection we seek in man-kind 
Many errors we surely will find. 
And the search will be a most difficult one, 
Since no man is perfect under the sun. 

n n 

I would rather have a cottage 
And have it all my own; 
Than live in wealth and grandeur 
Within another's home. 

tt tt 

"Blind to our own faults" how often it is true, 
We are apt to censure others, for the things we 
often do. 



so Reflections 



More than half our lives are squandered in vain 
longing and regret, 

In brooding over trials that we have never met. 

If we knew that hopeless dreaming is but bub- 
bles in the air, 

We would cease our endless pining, and our days 
of blank despair — 

Would be changed to eager effort, in the wish 
some good to do, 

And the stimulus of hoping, would spell "Action" 
real and true. 

» n 

We never know how soon the blow may fall, 
Nor unexpectedly the danger sweep our way 
We never know how soon the fatal hour. 
May come to cloud the sunshine of the day. 
U XX 

We will never grow old, as we count the years 
If we will court laughter instead of tears, 
Yes, less of worry and fewer of frowns. 
If the flowers of youth we would wear in our 

crowns. 
And rejoice in the thought, as the days go by 
"We are children of God, for His home on high." 
n XX 

When we are governed by our moods our 
soul's a weakling, because 'tis easier to yield 
than fortify the mind's need against all ill, yet, 
without the moods, nature's a commonplace and 
easy to satisfy, and while satisfaction may 
bring contentment, it does not always bring suc- 
cess. The restless mood stirs life to action, and 
action is the expression of the soul's desires. 
XX XX 

Be not too sure of a silent person's hospitality, 
nor take undue advantage thereof, for though he 
speaketh not, he secretly hateth you for your im- 
position. 

XX XX 

While some brains are possessed with great 
inventive capacity, they are very much like a 
clock. When wound up too tight with vanity and 
conceit, the springs, not being strong enough to 
endure the pressure of prosperity, are apt to 
break, or like cake baking, the recipe may be 
alright, but too much seasoning spoils the 
dough. 



Reflections SI 

Wilful ignorance is to be despised, for he who 
will not take heed of the wise, e'en though for 
his own good, is worse than ignorant, his stupid- 
ity becomes a scourge to his own back. 

n « 

The green eyed monster "Jealousy" can up- 
root every spark of peace that rests in the hu- 
man soul, and is often a slip noose to the gal- 
lows. 

n » 

Some people accept their lot, as thought it 
were meant by fate, that they should have no 
other heritage, but hard work. 

« n 

Some characters are as opposite as salt and 
sugar. Though similar in appearance, their 
tastes are quite different, and they never mix 
unless in a pickle. 

u n 

Some people are like a big orange, that looks 
like a whole lot, but when pealed, there's but a 
skimp inside with lots of rine. So are we often 
deceived with the bulk of some people, who look 
pretentious, but weigh little. 

» n 

Some people are capable of absorbing so much, 
as to frequently need new pastures, wherein to 
brouse. 

« « 

Our lives are like monuments, they must be 
hewn out of the rough places, and polished, to 
make them stand up smoothly against a clear 
sky. 

n n 

So live, the rest of your life; that when you 
come to die, your friends will not have to be sor- 
ry they are glad, that you are dead. 

:t n 

There is a class of people I would shun, as I 
would the venom of a snake, the kind who slur 
you, who are constantly preaching, and never 
bringing anything to the point. I would rather 
cross swords with them, than listen to their 
voice. 



52 Reflections 

The character of an evil person is made up of 
a distinctive boldness, which the innocent can in 
no wise assume, and the wicked usually use their 
own faults as a criterion for others. 

n » 

Don't give up until hope and you have parted, 
and even then, give yourself a few days of 
grace. 

«: » 

Impart information rarely, for you are never 
quite sure of its welcome, and ten to one, he 
whom you would advise, knows more than you 
who gives it. 

» n 

The more I learn, the less I think I know, and 
the less I think I know, the more intelligent I be- 
come. 

« « 

Truth, needs no vindication. An aureole of 
glory surrounds an honest person, which always 
imparts a feeling of safety to the stranger, who 
is sometimes thrown upon his mercy. 

n tx 

As riches are often a curse, so do they oft- 
times make men masters, but it is only in good 
deeds, that he shows his authority to govern 
those, who though they serve him, are in many 
ways his superior. 

n XX 

He who deliberately does a mean thing on pur- 
pose, will sooner or later find the cinders in the 
smoke of distaste he creates around him, blind- 
ing his own eyes. 

XX « 

False Impression is a wicked judge, and the 
jury of our thoughts should not be too hasty in 
passing sentence, lest that which we are the 
most sure of, is that in which we are the most 
mistaken. 

XX IX 

Paint and water will not mix, and much like 
some natures, must have a little of the oil of love 
for combination, for like the characters in short- 
hand one is two, and the consonants arranged in 
pairs according to their affinity of sounds. 



Reflections S3 



As naturally as the flowers turn to the sun, 
so do our hearts turn to one another for warmth 
of sympathy and love. 

» n 

Some people have such a love for argument, 
that they argue against their own interest for 
the sake of controversy. 

n tt 



-AS A MAN THINKETH. SO IS HE" 

Just as our thoughts are; so truly are we. 

It matters not then, what our station may be. 

Hearts that are wanting seeith not the bright 

star 
Gleaming so radiant, beaming afar. 

The hope that is promised, the gain and the loss 
The richness of living, the weight of the cross, 
O just as our thoughts are; so too, is our day 
We clothe it in darkness, or sunshine array. 

We make it, or mar it with pleasure or pain, 

For as the day fleeting returns not again, 

The thoughts that bring treasures in glory to 

view 
Returns their reward in full measure to you. 

Our life like a pattern we choose as we will 
The coloring of beauty and brightness to fill. 
To weave in the spaces of delicate hue 
Of thoughts, sweet and lovely, uplifting and true. 

We cannot be happy if bodings of ill, 

Creep over our hearts with a feeling of chill. 

But just as our thoughts are; our voyage will 

be,— 
On wild raging billows, or smooth mirrored sea. 

The days of the summer, the sunlight and rain 
We choose, or refuse, their loss or their gain. 
We may wish for the beautiful, ask for the 

best, — 
The trend of our thoughts, makes life blighted 

or blest. 

If we dwell in the clouds of our thoughts all the 

day 
We drive all the sunshine in life soon away, 
If we think the day drear, it is bound to be so. 
No matter which way the winds chance to blow. 



S4 Reflections 



And just as thoughts are; individually we'll be 
So are we beloved, or despised hourly; 
For sunshine magnetic, it brings out the bloom' 
And sweetens our lives, if we give it the room. 

Kind thoughts, fill the soul with the sunlight of 

love. 
And divinely are blest from the spirit above, 
Dark thoughts, are the clouds that weave into 

rain 
A deluge of tears for the mourner again. 

The same is our life, if we seek but to find 
The worst we can conjure in a distorted mind. 
The mind's swift reflection draws a picture so 

true 
A dark silhouette, 'gainst the skies' tender blue. 

For every sad frown soon furrows the brow 
And gives us full interest of worries' endow. 
For just as our thoughts are; so bright will it be 
A bountiful treasure for life's legacy. 



Epilogue 

When life is done! When life is done! 
And the spirit and the mortal life are one. 
When all doubt and fear have vanished, 
And all pain and grief are banished. 
By the steadfast Faith eternal we have won. 

When the spirit sinks to rest beyond the shoal, 
And the restless heart at last shall find the goal, 
When the holy light of love 
Shall descend from heaven above, 
And sweet sleep shall come to ease the wearied 
soul. 

Oh, the peace and joy to know, when life is done! 

What rest to be, just at the setting of the sun, 

When all sadness is abating. 

And the treasures are awaiting,- 

Our acceptance. When the final race is run. 

When the stars of evening glow with tender 

light, 
And our barge is slowly sinking out of sight. 
To the glorious life to be, 
Where is fathomed mystery. 
We then shall smile to bid the world, 

"Goodnight!" 



Compilationa of 
FLORA WILLIAMS WOOD 



Rhymes at Random 

Woodbury 

A Vase of Roses 

Reflections 
Golden Opinions 

Theodosia 

Nature and Life 

Flowers of Pastime 

Hearts and Roses 

A Romance of the Tomb 

The Barge Beyond the Harbor 

The Prodigal Heart 

The Girl in the Grey Chinchilla 

Dorothy Gray, and others 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




